Good Enough
by Melmm
Summary: Part one of the As Yet Unnamed Trilogy, wherein a chance meeting in a pub leads to the start of something new. GinnyLuna with a hint of DracoLuna.


Author: Emmie  
Title: Good Enough  
Fandom: Harry Potter  
Pairing(s): Ginny/Luna with a hint of Luna/Draco  
Rating: PG-13 at the most  
Continuity: 5th year for the girls  
Author's note: Part One of the As Yet Unnamed Trilogy. Featuring abusive!Draco (now appearing in at least half my G/L fics, someone get him outta there) and sub!Luna. Yay. Based on the Sarah McLachlan song. Lyrics at the end.  
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.

As it turns out, torrential rain, while not quite enough to keep the students of Hogwarts from their first Hogsmeade trip of the term, does put a bit of a damper on the fun. So it is that by eleven o'clock Ginny finds herself one of the few people on the streets, her classmates having sensibly retreated back to the warmth of the castle, the village residents having still more sensibly never ventured from their homes in the first place.

Ginny doesn't mind the rain. It brings solitude, peace. Gives her time to think, about life, and the fate of the wizarding world, and sex. Ginny hates to be a typical teenager; she knows there are more important things. Still, she finds herself thinking about sex a lot these days. She supposes it's something to do with hormones, and hates that too.

Finally deciding it is far past time to wring herself out, she ducks into the Three Broomsticks. Ordering a butterbeer, she takes a table near the back, pulls off her dripping cloak, and looks around. Only three other tables are occupied. A pair of pompous-looking wizards are talking loudly and ostentatiously in the far corner; they are perfectly dry. Ginny thinks perhaps the rain dare not touch their expensive cloaks. A witch from the village sits nearby, nursing a tropical-looking drink. And at the third table is…Luna Lovegood.

Ginny takes note of this, not because Luna is here (she seems like the last person to be bothered by a bit of water, though she might warn you that it calls Purple-Nosed Whatsits), but because she is alone. For the past several weeks, Luna has been seemingly attached at the hip to one Draco Malfoy. It had caused quite a stir in the castle, had, in fact, been just about all anybody talked about, until the gossip-mongers found a new story. Still, eyes followed the couple wherever they went.

Ginny's eyes. All right, she had never been close to Luna. They had become friends of a sort the previous year, yes, but they barely talked outside of the DA. Still, she felt some sort of attachment to the girl. So she watched, not with the fascination of one who needs someone else to whisper about, but with the interest of one who cares. She neither liked Malfoy nor trusted him, but she trusted her semi-friend's judgment, and if Luna was happy with him, Ginny was prepared to forgive him anything he had done to her.

Well, almost.

But, oddly enough, Luna seemed anything but happy. Oh, certainly at first she was her usual self, and after all, she was a bit of a reserved, private person. Ginny could not imagine her waxing emotional in public. But as the days went on, she became more and more quiet, seeming almost to shrink into herself. Bags appeared under her eyes and she seemed almost lifeless.

Ginny watched, and plotted Malfoy's death.

Now she picks up her drink and goes over to Luna's table. "Hi Luna," she says, "mind if I sit here?"

Luna looks up, and it seems to take her a moment to register Ginny standing there. "Hi, Ginny. Sure," she murmurs.

Ginny takes a seat. Luna is staring off into space again. "So, where's Draco?" she asks.

Luna snaps back to attention. "What? Oh, he went back to the castle."

Ginny nods, knowing she should drop the subject, but she can't quite stop herself. "How come you didn't go with him?"

Luna stares at her a bit and suddenly Ginny has a thought that brings her far more joy than it should.

"You two didn't break up, did you?"

Luna shakes her head with a wry half-smile. "No. Definitely not." It is perhaps the most normal thing Ginny has ever heard her do or say. Normal, it turns out, does not suit her.

"He doesn't deserve you," she says, conversationally. Her mouth is on auto-pilot.

Luna tilts her head, thinks about it. "You mean I don't deserve him. I'm very lucky." It sounds wooden, rehearsed. Luna looks ready to cry. Knives, Ginny decides. Dull, rusty ones.

"You're right," she says, "you don't deserve him. You deserve better." _You deserve me._

Where did that come from? Ginny shakes perhaps the oddest thought she has ever had out of her head. From Luna there is utter lack of a response. She seems to be thinking things over.

"Well," Ginny says, noticing the other girl's empty glass, "I'm about to head back. D'you want to walk with me?"

Again Luna gives her an odd half-smile, but this time it's closer to the real thing. "All right," she agrees.

Draining the last of her butterbeer, Ginny stands, and Luna follows her out into the rain. It takes her a moment to realize that the girl has taken her hand, intertwined their fingers loosely. The next thing she knows, she is kissing Luna, arms wrapped around her, tongues exploring each other, in the middle of the deserted street, under the downpour, and you know, she thinks, it's not that odd after all.

Ginny's mind is moving too fast, skipping like crazy. She does not remember the walk back from Hogsmeade. One moment they are kissing in the street, the next Luna is sitting beside her on her bed in Gryffindor tower, still seeming huddled in on herself. Outside, the rain has turned to snow; white flakes drift past the window, several clinging to the sill, as if they, like Ginny, are dying to see what is about to happen inside.

Both girls are dressed in Ginny's robes – Luna looks somewhat lost amidst the folds of fabric, which only serves to add to the shrunken, huddled look. Though dry – she remembers neither changing nor performing the Drying Charm – Ginny is still shivering... She mutters meaningless words to fill the space between them and then, not giving Luna a chance to respond, stretches out one frozen hand, letting it rest on the blonde's shoulder. She feels her lips move, more words doubtless dropping out, wandering away uselessly as her fingers are now wandering over Luna, seeking out the lithe body beneath the fabric. Her mind, however, is already spinning off, tilting toward madness or ecstasy, and really, she wonders, is there a difference?

She is lying on her side, legs tangled with Luna's; incidentally, she notices, the other girl is topless. Ginny is breathing too fast; Luna quite naturally looks placid as always. Burying her face in blond hair that smells fresh, like rainfall, like purity, Ginny mutters, "Do you want…"

"Please," Luna whispers, cutting her off, and it is all Ginny needs to hear. Her lips explore Luna's skin, discovering its softness, its sweetness. And then, as she feels herself about to drift off again, a new discovery.

The rest of their clothing has been stripped away now and Ginny, in the course of her journey along the length of Luna, has run across a bit of purple flesh. This is odd, she thinks; she certainly can't recall ever meeting any purple people before; perhaps Luna is just that special –

Her mind snaps back to full clarity and this time it is her stomach that twists away. Dotting Luna's flesh are bruises in various shades of ugliness. They range in size from small dots to a large splotch (_like spilt grape juice_, Ginny thinks detachedly) which stains her stomach, spreading up, wrapping around her ribcage toward her back (Ginny can't even fathom how it is possible, doesn't want to know). Angry red marks decorate one wrist as if someone has squeezed, twisted with all their might. It is a marvel, Ginny thinks, that nothing is broken (_no bones, anyway_), and oh, how could she not have known, not have _seen_?

She brushes her fingers lightly over the huge mark, her heart breaking at Luna's sharp breath.

"Did he…?"

Luna nods almost imperceptibly. "Had to," she murmurs. "Had to teach me…show me." Ginny is sitting up now, staring deep into Luna's eyes, which, though fixed on hers, are vacant, faraway. "His. I'm his, you see."

"You want to leave him." It is not a question.

"But I can't," Luna confirms. "Because I'm his. He showed me…"

"Yes," Ginny murmurs, "but what, what if I make you mine?"

Luna's eyes clear; she stares at Ginny inquisitively. "You'd want me?"

Ginny is at a loss to express her sheer disbelief at that question. "Why," she asks, hoping her voice conveys what words alone never could, "would anyone not want you?"

"Marked," Luna mutters, "I'm marked…his…"

Ginny shakes her head. "Mine. You can't leave, but I can take you. You are _mine_."

And Luna lights up, the first true smile Ginny has ever seen from her. She is so radiant that Ginny can hardly stand to look at her, yet cannot tear her eyes away.

"Yours," she whispers, "yours."

And Ginny again begins her travels down the continent of Luna's body, this time carefully whispering healing spells as she bathes the skin with her tongue and tears. When the last of the bruises have faded away, she crawls upward yet again. A breathed incantation directly over Luna's heart leaves the faint but visible shape of a heart, read outlined with blue. The mark bears a spell of protection, and Ginny prays to whatever gods may be willing to listen to her plea that it will not be necessary.

Sex, Ginny thinks, pulling Luna into her arms as the four-poster's hangings swish shut around them, seems so incredibly pointless in the midst of love.

_Hey your glass is empty  
It's a hell of a long way home  
Why don't you let me take you?  
It's no good to go alone  
I never would have opened up  
But you seemed so real to me  
After all the bullshit I've heard  
It's refreshing not to see  
I don't have to pretend  
She doesn't expect it from me_

So don't tell me i haven't been good to you  
Don't tell me I haven't been there for you  
Just tell me why nothing is good enough

Hey little girl would you like some candy  
Your momma said it's okay  
The door is open, come on outside  
No I can't come out today  
It's not the wind that cracked your shoulder  
And threw you to the ground  
Who's there that makes you so afraid?  
You're shaken to the bone  
You know I don't understand  
You deserve so much more than this

So don't tell me why he's never been good to you  
Don't tell me why he's never been there for you  
Don't you know that why is simply not good enough  
So just let me try and I will be there for you  
I'll show you why you're so much more than good enough


End file.
